


Lips of an Angel

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Biblical References, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Mild Gore, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut, angel au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 16:25:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Gabriel was scorned. Fallen. In one horrible moment of fury, he had lost everything. An Archangel should know better. An Archangel could show no weakness. But Gabriel had given himself over to Pride and Wrath. He had challenged the Law of the Light. Now he lay, graceless, in the cold dark of sin.Mercy remains by Gabriel's side as he learns to love once more





	Lips of an Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This fic is a bit more experimental than some of my other writing! I hope y'all enjoy

Gabriel was scorned. Fallen. In one horrible moment of fury, he had lost everything. An Archangel should know better. An Archangel could show no weakness. But Gabriel had given himself over to Pride and Wrath. He had challenged the Law of the Light. Now he lay, graceless, in the cold dark of sin.

He was stripped bare. His wings, once jet black and glorious, were now mangled bloody stumps. He gripped shining feathers in his palm, wishing he could place them back where they belonged. The sound replayed in his mind over and over again. The snapping and ripping and tearing as they were cut away. The wind rushing in his ears as he fell. He had never known pain before, not until that moment.

It had not subsided -- the hurt. The sharp burn had only given way to a constant ache, still crippling and nearly blinding with every move that Gabriel made. So he lay still. Face twisted in agony, clutching crushed feathers in one hand and a bloody crown of thorns in the other. His halo, so brilliant and luminous, had rotted before his very eyes. The gold band had warped and crumbled until all that remained were dark briars that pricked him.

Surely he must die. Fallen, flightless, abandoned. Eventually, Death would find him. What was the end for fallen Angels? Would even Hell itself accept a traitor to the Light?

Gabriel cried. He wept for his lost brothers, his lost home. He mourned his wings and their beauty. He wept in repentance for his mistakes. He was to blame. These were the consequences of his own actions.

A flash of light drew Gabriel’s eyes upward. He blinked in the blinding glow, struggling to see the shape that had joined him in the empty darkness.

The Angel of Mercy. A seraph. She was everything that Gabriel was not, her skin fair and hair golden, eyes bright and smile gentle. Mercy brought joy and peace and light. She was seen in times of celebration and love.

Gabriel, an Archangel, a fearsome guardian, carried a different kind of beauty. His hair was black and coarse; his skin was bronzed. His eyes were dark and his expression stoic. They were both stunning -- perfect -- but nothing alike.

The Angel of Mercy gazed down on him with love and grace. Her brilliant white and gold wings with feathers of pure light. Once again, he remembered the sound of his own wings ripping and tearing. The pain was unbearable, and he cried out in anguish. The feathers in his hand fell to the ground, trapped in the damp earth, weighed down and flightless.

Mercy knelt at his side. Gabriel wanted to recoil, to move away from her gentle glow. He was dark, tainted, untouchable. Still, Mercy reached for him. Her fingers were warm against his skin, gentle as they trailed down his shoulder. He cried out once more, not quite sure why.

“Be not afraid,” she smiled gently. “I have come to you in peace. Allow me to tend to your wounds.”

Gabriel pulled away from her touch, drawing himself up to his knees so that he could meet her eyes. “You should not lower yourself for me. I am worthless and vile. Leave me here and return home to my brothers.” He wanted to sound angry, to show scorn and hatred, but his voice was weak and broken.

“You are suffering. Allow me to heal you, please.” Mercy said.

“The pain is my penance,” Gabriel spat, turning his eyes to the ground. His hand tightened around the ring of thorns, and Mercy gasped as dark blood began to run over his knuckles and down his arm. The Archangel was unfazed; it was no use fighting his own damnation. “This is the fate I have chosen. My wings have been destroyed and my halo has rotted. I have already lost my glory. Leave me alone to die.”

“Please,” Mercy begged, “you can still be saved. Let me tend to you. It is not too late.”

“There is nothing you can do. Even if you heal me, what will I have? This darkness is all that is left for me. Leave me to rot in my sins. I have lost everything. I’ll never be able to return home.” Gabriel raised his head, eyes searching in the darkness for a light he would never know again.

Mercy sighed and extended her wings fully. Their shine drew Gabriel’s attention and he glared at the bright feathers with scorn and envy. She leaned forward and folded her wings around both of them, sheltering Gabriel under the golden glow. Her hands reached slowly, taking Gabriel’s clenched fist and prying his fingers from the thorns one by one. At last, the bloody briars fell to the ground, and Mercy opened Gabriel’s palm to gaze upon his wounds.

They both stared in horror at the torn and bloodied skin of Gabriel’s hand. The red blood that seeped from his wounds and ran in dark rivulets between his fingers. 

Gabriel had never known pain before, never been injured. As long as he was protected by the Light, he was invulnerable. Now, he bled like a mortal, felt pain like a mortal, was grounded and flightless and worthless.

Mercy trailed one slender finger over Gabriel’s injuries. The wounds sealed under her soft touch, flesh knitting itself back together. She trailed a path down his arm, up over his shoulder and then down the other arm. Bit by bit, each cut and gash healed before their eyes until nothing remained but a landscape of raised, pink scars. Gabriel had never seen an angel with scars before.

The process was slow and tender, Mercy reverently healing each wound on Gabriel’s body. At last, she took his face in her hands and pressed her soft lips to the cuts that marred his cheeks and brow. When she pulled away, there was blood smeared across the plush, pink skin of her mouth. The sight made Gabriel’s stomach turn.

“May I touch your wings?” she asked. 

Gabriel shook his head, gasping in pain as he instinctively tried to fold the wings that were no longer there. The shattered bones flexed, and more blood poured from the torn flesh.

“Let me help you.” Mercy wiped the blood from her lips. Gabriel’s blood.

He didn’t move. Mercy carefully knelt at Gabriel’s back. Her finger trailed down his spine between his shoulder blades and the relief was instant. He sighed softly.

Mercy traced a wide circle around the bloodied stumps, feeling Gabriel relax under her touch. Tentatively, she pressed her finger to the shattered bone that still bled in a slow steady stream. Under her touch, the bleeding stopped and new skin began to grow over the wound. Mercy cleaned the blood from her hand and knelt before Gabriel once more.

“Will they grow back?” he asked softly. His voice was rough, weak. His eyes shined with tears.

“I… I can’t be sure,” Mercy whispered. She sounded just as defeated.

Gabriel roared. Tears streamed down his face, mixing with freshly dried blood. He dragged his fingers through the earth, clawing at the dark ground as he mourned his wings.

A harsh wind tore through the darkness, echoing Gabriel’s yell as it died in the distance.

“Leave me,” Gabriel ordered.

“No.” Mercy sat perfectly still.

Gabriel’s head snapped up. A lowly seraph defying an Archangel? But Gabriel had fallen. He held no power over her.

Mercy did not move, did not speak. Gabriel snarled and turned away, sinking to the ground in anguish.

They remained like that for a long while. The time meant nothing. An eternity would have meant nothing in the still darkness.

Gabriel spoke first.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for healing me.”

“You deserve that and more,” Mercy replied. “I am with you.”

“You are wasting your time. Return home. Find joy. There is nothing here for you.”

“ _You_ are here for me.”

Gabriel rose. Anger and despair rolled from his taut shoulders. “This is my damnation. This is the prison where I will remain until the end of time. Do you mock me? You, with your wings and your freedom, able to come and go as you please. Is this a source of enjoyment for you?”

Mercy recoiled under his scorn. Gabriel felt a wash of remorse as he realized he had scared the seraph.

“There is redemption for you yet.” Mercy set her jaw and stepped forward. Her expression was unyielding as she stared up at Gabriel. “I am staying with you here - to watch over you. It is my duty to show you grace and love. We will return home together.”

Gabriel scoffed in disbelief. “Have it your way.”

* * *

Two immortals in eternal darkness. Mercy remained endlessly patient and gentle. Gabriel’s anger burned bright and hot until he had nothing left to fuel the fire. Slowly but surely, his resentment turned to the cool ash of melancholy.

“How can I redeem myself?” Gabriel asked. It was the first time he had spoken in a long while, the kindest he had been since he fell. Mercy had never wavered no matter how biting and cruel Gabriel had been. She gave him that same soft smile now as she had when he had scorned her.

“Repent. Forgive yourself. Show yourself love and grace. Once you begin to heal, to open your heart again, the Light will accept you home.” She sounded so sure, so honest. Gabriel couldn’t help but believe that there was still hope for him.

“How can I forgive myself for what I have done? I have betrayed my brothers and turned my back on Grace and Glory. I am not deserving of love.” Gabriel looked at his scarred hand, flexed the featherless lumps on his back, trying to remember what it felt like to fly.

Mercy placed her palm on his cheek. He winced at the feeling of her smooth hand against his scars.

“You are always deserving of love. I am here to remind you of that.”

Gabriel stared into her eyes, searching them for answers. He wanted to return home; he would give anything to redeem himself. But Mercy didn’t want his sacrifice.

She saw the sorrow and confusion in Gabriel’s expression. She felt his pain and his grief. He nearly recoiled from her touch. 

“Let me show you that you are loved,” she whispered. Her lips pressed against Gabriel’s. He stiffened under her touch and remained still. Her kiss moved to the corner of his mouth, over the scars on his cheek and brow.

He pushed her away. His fingers gripped her shoulder tightly. “You don’t have to-“ he stopped, looking for words.

“I want to show you my love,” Mercy said, more insistent. Her lips found his once more and he sighed as she ran her hands over his chest.

He held her steady yet again. “If you… I can’t…” A deep breath. “Stopping… may be difficult for me.” Shame flooded him and he turned away, eyes boring into the ground.

“There is no reason to stop,” Mercy assured him. She took his face in her hands, turning him to meet her gaze.

This time, it was Gabriel’s lips who sought out Mercy. His hands trembled as they settled on her waist, pulling her in closer. The contact was so good. Gabriel hadn’t been touched in so long. The feeling of being held, of being _wanted_ both worsened and lessened his pain. He didn’t deserve this. It was wrong of him to feel this good. But Mercy said that he was loved.

He couldn't bring himself to let her go, but he couldn't take what he needed. His hands stayed glued to her waist. His lips moved softly against her own.

Mercy moved his hands to her hips and tangled her fingers in his hair. At her invitation, Gabriel deepened the kiss. His hands were rough and scarred against her soft skin, and they wandered. Mercy shivered and pressed herself even closer to him.

It felt heavenly, divine. After so long in the darkness -- alone and grieving -- Mercy's skin against his own was like salvation.

He dragged his lips over her jaw, burying his face into her neck and breathing deeply. A shudder racked through him. Mercy’s fingers scratched against his scalp, her other hand flat against his chest. Her wings wrapped around the both of them, sheltering Gabriel under their golden glow.

“What do you need?” she whispered.

Gabriel shuddered once more. He let out a shaky breath against her skin, fingers digging in slightly where he held her.

“This is enough,” he said. “You… here. This closeness.” He curled in even tighter against her. He was much larger than her -- the silhouette of an Archangel was an imposing one. His usually massive form was tucked under the seraph’s wings, nestled against her skin as he learned to heal.

Mercy did not push him away. She held him for as long as he needed, pressed her lips to his skin and pulled him closer when he began to shake. Gabriel remained until his pain had eased and his grief was beginning to subside, warm under the light of her wings. 

At last, he drew back. He knelt in front of her, knees not quite touching. Already, he was stronger. His pain had faded away; he had more color to his skin. The darkness that had taken hold of him was withdrawing.

“Thank you.” He took one of her hands in his. “I am so grateful for what you have done.”

Mercy smiled. “You are welcome. Thank you for letting me help you.”

“You can return home now,” Gabriel said. “I will be fine from now on.”

The seraph nodded. Her eyes knew more than she said. “I will see you, Gabriel.”

He watched her stand and disappear in a gentle flash of light. The sound of his name on her lips echoed to him.

* * *

Gabriel remained in the darkness. He had begun to heal. His strength returned little by little; he could feel the warmth and glow of the Light. Even without Mercy by his side, he was able to piece himself back together. 

The scars remained etched in his skin, but the Light welcomed him home. His brothers -- _his father_ \-- greeted him with open arms. Gabriel, with his wings nothing more than gnarled stumps, returning home. His halo was glorious. A golden ring of light. He wondered if it was brighter than it was before he fell.

He sought Mercy. He needed to find her.

Moving on foot was slow and tedious, but he found her. She was luminous and fair, just as he had last seen her.

“Your wings are healing,” she smiled as he approached. 

“I am home,” he matched her expression.

Mercy stood. She glided towards Gabriel until she was standing directly in front of him. He watched carefully as she placed one palm in the center of his chest.

Gabriel looked conflicted. He grabbed Mercy’s wrist, intending to pull her hand away.  
“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” she cut him off. “You are still worthy of love -- especially now.”

He searched her eyes, finding nothing but truth in them. She rose to meet his lips, and he kissed her deeply. Her hands roved over his skin, drinking in the strength he had gained since she last saw him. He pulled her close, sliding his hands under the folds of her clothes.

Mercy moaned softly into Gabriel’s kiss, an encouragement. His fingers dug into her soft hips. She tugged at his curls, hitching one leg around his waist.

“What do you need?” Mercy asked once again. She kissed over Gabriel’s jaw. 

“You,” Gabriel breathed, bringing her other leg up. She was wrapped around him, clinging to his massive form as his hands wandered over her skin. Their hips met, and he ground against her. The sound that escaped her lips sent him soaring, flightless though he was.

White cloth fell to the ground in a flurry; they were both bare. In a surprising show of strength, Gabriel lifted Mercy higher so that his lips could reach her breasts. Her head fell back in rapture. 

A heel knocked into Gabriel’s back, and he let out a sharp, pained cry. Mercy was instantly attentive. She took his face in her hands and searched his eyes carefully.

“I’m okay,” he promised. “You kicked my wings.”

“Oh.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe you should set me down.”

Gabriel nodded, and soon enough he was kneeling between her thighs. She clutched his shoulders and whispered to him as he kissed down her body. He grew more enthusiastic, more aggressive as his fingers gripped her thighs. His hips ground against hers. The sensation made his eyes flutter.

Mercy let out a strangled cry. Gabriel loosened his hold on her and gave her the exact look she had just given him.

“I’m just-” she panted, “that felt really good.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow and repeated the motion. Mercy’s high whine of pleasure only encouraged him further.

“Let me know if I am too rough,” he said. 

Mercy gave him a challenging smirk, yanking on his hair and dragging her fingernails over his skin. She moved back against him, and his eyes fluttered closed. The feeling was almost too much. After so much time alone in the darkness, another’s skin against his own was making him spark and shiver.

Teeth grazed the shell of his ear, and Gabriel couldn’t take it. He sank into Mercy, pinning her beneath him. His pace was swift and strong, powerful strokes that made her wings flutter beneath her.

“Gabriel!” she cried, aglow with golden light. The Archangel didn’t stop. He had never been able to have this, even before he fell. The love, the tenderness, the passion. Mercy was giving it to him -- she said he deserved it. 

His fingers slipped between her thighs. He worked to bring her to ecstasy. Every soft moan, every keening whine, every roll of Mercy’s hips brought him higher and higher. She was getting close.

She came around him, nothing but warmth and light and pure joy. The sight of her beneath him only spurred him towards his own end. He pressed her hips down and thrust forward again and again. 

Completion was the closest feeling to flight Gabriel had known in so long. Everything was light and bright, weightlessness and exhilaration. He finished with his own cry, a loud bellow that echoed across the sky.

Gabriel and Mercy lay in a soothing embrace. Her head tucked under his chin, her hands running along his skin, legs intertwined. She brushed her lips over the scars she had healed when he first fell. Her fingers trailed over his back, over the soft, downy growth of jet-black feathers. He was healing.

**Author's Note:**

> Help me be famous on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Clare_Guilty)
> 
> I have other fics on my [Tumblr](https://clareguilty.tumblr.com/)


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